


Slaying Bads, Butchering Languages

by DancerInTheMoonlight



Series: Blaine Anderson Is The Vampire Slayer [5]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire Slayer, Blaine Anderson Is The Vampire Slayer, Buffy the Vampire Slayer References, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Glee References, Inspired by Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Multi, Slayer!Blaine, Vampire Slayer(s), Vampires, Watcher!Sue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-30 09:26:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19850275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancerInTheMoonlight/pseuds/DancerInTheMoonlight
Summary: As Blaine struggles to make sense of the new not-so-big bad in his life, strange occurences happen at the school gym. Will the Slayer and his friends get to the bottom of a series of unusually unfortunate events? Will Blaine achieve some balance between Glee and his Watcher's attitude towards it? And most importantly, will Blaine ever have any chance of passing French?(An extended take on S1E3 - The Witch.)





	1. What Part Of He's A Vampire Didn't You Get

**Author's Note:**

> All original lines unequivocally belong to the TV show Buffy the Vampire Slayer and its creators. 
> 
> p.s. sorry about the half-wit French

It had been four months since he encountered Sebastian Smythe and four weeks since he learned about his—thing.

Ce garçon est très charmant.

God that sounded so wrong. His _thing_ , about being a cambion. Blaine wasn’t sure what to make of that. An incubus with the ability to exude influence in contact with people’s bare skin.

Ma peau est –

Skin he occasionally sank his teeth into. Because a cambion could still be a vampire. Sebastian Smythe had explained it and yet, Blaine still had trouble wrapping his mind around that piece of information. That a demon could be made from a demon. That Sebastian Smythe was. . . Well, he was not anything Blaine had ever heard o or experienced before. A double demonic presence. And he still had to tell his Watcher about it.

Il ne se plait parler de—

Not telling his Watcher about making an acquaintance – because try as he might, Blaine could not run from the fact that four months of running into each other and not-killing each other made Sebastian Smythe and himself, at the very least, quite strong acquaintances – didn’t sit well with the Slayer. The 16-year-old Blaine Anderson, however, felt like he was getting away with a dirty little secret. Running around with a vampire.

Well, maybe not intentionally, but Sebastian Smythe did have a way of finding him. It wasn’t like Blaine was seeking out such company.

Voulez-vous m’accompagner?

It was Tina who caught him, right after Christmas break, and promptly called it ‘running around with a vampire’.

“Are you even listening? Hello, earth to Blaine!” Across the table, Tina was looking at him expectantly.

Shit. Right.

“Um. . . _Voulez-vous_ —meh—huh?” Blaine was slowly bemoaning the fact that he had taken French instead of Spanish. The only reason he even knew this one and didn’t make it sound something like ‘woolly-woo’ was Abba. And yet he sincerely doubted his grade would be of the passing kind if he continued that sentence with ‘ _ah-hah_ ’.

 _I suck_ , Blaine thought and cringed at the thought. Tina was giving him a sympathetic look.

“C’mon Blaine. You’ll get it. You just need to focus.”

“Yeah, sorry.” Somehow Blaine doubted he’d ever be good at French. But he was only 16 and in high school. What did he know? Maybe things were looking up in the future.

“Is it, you know—Slayer stuff?” Tina lowered her voice and leaned forward into Blaine’s space.

Being a Slayer (and possibly because he’d been beat up on a dark parking lot) Blaine liked his space and Tina was the complete opposite. She was always into people’s faces, hugging them in greeting and sitting close. It took Blaine a month not to flinch when she carelessly and unceremoniously flung herself into empty spots beside him, and the first time she playfully tackled Blaine from behind, he almost broke her arm. Blaine was mortified to the core and, thinking this would put an end to this first and maybe even only real friendship at McKinley High, apologized until he was blue in the face, but Tina had been incredibly cool about it and toned things down considerably when he explained. She still jumped on his back occasionally, maintaining it was to keep his Slayer-senses sharp. Blaine knew it was exclusively for the purpose of a piggyback ride. With his Slayer strength, Blaine could easily carry even two people, which definitely came in handy in Cheerio practice. The girls trusted him and even Lopez had been impressed by his effortless lifts—especially when Blaine even tried lifting Mike Chang, once. Arguably, Lopez was able to notice all kinds of potential and Mike was all kinds of cool, but Blaine doubted other potential guys on the team would let him do it. They all knew how Blaine came to be here.

Or knew some twisted, messed up version of it, anyway.

And being the Slayer, that didn’t exactly help with his socializing. Except when there were lifts involved. Or in case of one-on-one combats, Blaine figured, his mind immediately coming up with Sebastian Smythe.

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, feeling slightly unpleasantly warm. “Slayer stuff.” 

“Uh-huh.” Tina regarded him carefully, leaning back in her chair. “And does this Slayer stuff happen to be tall, lean and kind of a handsome fang-y dickhead?”

“Tina!” Blaine gasped, not because of her word choice, but because his friend was spot-on. She smiled wickedly. 

“I thought so.” Wicked smiles aside, Tina closed her textbook and frowned a bit. “Are you still running around with this guy at night?” 

“Tina, I’m not—we’re not—” Blaine had trouble finding an appropriate sentence. “ _It’s not_ running around. I swear, I don’t even know how he manages to find me every time.” Blaine settled on this pathetic excuse of a defensive explanation. _With his stupid quips and stupid eyes_ , he thought.

“But you like it.” It wasn’t a question. Oh boy.

“N-no. I don’t,” Blaine hesitated and blushed for it all the more. When Tina got something into her head, she was like a dog with a bone. “It’s not like that. He’s a vampire.”

“A _boy_ -vampire,” Tina retorted, wiggling her eyebrows. Blaine huffed, annoyed. “But seriously, though. If you like his hipster hair and can withstand the fang-y douchey-ness for more than five minutes, I think you should just ask him on a date.”

“Are you out of your mind? What part of ‘he’s a vampire’ didn’t you understand?” Blaine tried to show how affronted he was, but really, it was the same part he himself apparently didn’t understand, since Sebastian Smythe was still un-dusty and chatting him up in his obnoxious manner any chance he got.

“The same part you didn’t,” Tina quipped, and Blaine groaned. Amused Tina was only slightly better than Tina on a mission. Also, Blaine sometimes wondered if they shared half a brain.

“Tina,” he said. “I’m not going to ask him out. Besides the obvious—”

“That you have a thing for the wanna-big bad?” she interrupted, which Blaine pointedly ignored.

“— _that he is a vampire_ ,” he stressed, “where would we even go? We go out on a date and then what, I order a burger for myself and a person with extra fries on the side for my special friend? Or, what, do you know a place where they serve O-neg on tap? _Oh, yes, thank you, can I have a coffee with a spike of hot blood in it?_ ” Blaine pretended to order in an exaggerated voice and Tina laughed, shaking her head. Blaine _did_ know what a ‘date’ with Sebastian Smythe looked like, first-hand actually, and also knew for a fact that Sebastian Smythe didn’t take blood in his coffee (just like he assumed he wouldn’t take blood on his dinner out), but that was for Blaine to know and for Tina-- or anyone else-- to. . . not.

“Dude, that’s gross!” exclaimed a voice behind Blaine. “Please don’t tell me you’re trying that.” Blaine thanked the Powers this conversation was interrupted, although, as he twisted to look up at Sam Evans, he hoped that his friend caught just the very end of it.

“Sam!” Tina beamed up at the tall and broad-shouldered boy standing beside Blaine. “No,” she said. “We were just—”

“Leaving! We were just leaving,” Blaine loudly closed his French textbook and hastened to stand, turning towards Sam, but not before throwing a pointed look Tina’s way. She pursed her lips, but acquiesced.

“Yeah,” Tina gathered her stuff and approached Sam, knocking his foot with her own, her hands too full for a hug. “What have you been up to, Blondie?” Sam gave her an easy smile at the endearment and knocked right back. It made Blaine smile, too.

Tina Cohen-Chang and Sam Evans had been best friends since early childhood, were a presence in each-other’s lives which couldn’t be undone. Blaine often considered them a package deal, but not of the annoying kind, more of a kind which made you long for that kind of a relationship in your life. It also came with that messy, bittersweet mixture-feeling of loss and longing for something wonderful that you’ll never have. The said feeling never escalated very far in Blaine’s case, since Blaine becoming fast friends with Tina meant he was bound to have Sam in his life as well. Sam was a great guy. Easy-going, very kind and very protective of Tina, which Blaine loved, because he cared about her, too. Sam was also incredibly geeky, combined with that boy-next-door-meets-Calvin-Klein-model good looks which he was not entirely unaware of and which exuded the kind of confidence that put Sam on the popular kids’ radar. And while Blaine geeky-ness bonded entirely with Sam’s geeky-ness, Sam’s good-look-i-ness was simultaneously something that Blaine was still getting used to and something of a free pass for a weird newbie like himself. Because if the good-looking sweetheart Sam Evans socialized with the shady queer new kid, then there must be something about the shady queer new kid that was acceptable, at least. Blaine was incredibly grateful for that, and the more he knew Sam, the more he was convinced how invaluable a friend he was.

This was especially true since Sam discovered Blaine was the Slayer, making Blaine that much luckier for now having two close friends that he didn’t have to pretend around or lie to. Sam had received it pretty well, even compared Blaine to a superhero, and spent time excitedly debating whether that made him and Tina Blaine’s side-kicks. They spent an entire weekend binge-watching superhero movies and thinking up aliases and ridiculous backstories—even though Sam deemed Blaine’s own backstory pretty solid superhero material, once he found out.

Sam was the best. Blaine loved the hell out of him. Occasionally crushed on him and tried very hard not to, even. Still, he didn’t think he wanted to deal with Sam’s protectiveness—which extended heavily from Tina to Blaine, ever since they became friends—when he revealed that he’d been ‘running around with a vampire’. Blaine had a feeling that Sam would not take it lightly. Bad guys were strictly bad in superhero-verse, after all.

“I’ve been looking for you guys. Coach Sylvester sent me. I was in the middle of PE and you wouldn’t _believe_ what happened—” Blaine tuned it out for a brief second, giving him a once-over. Sam was indeed in his gym clothes, soaked shirt and a lime green elastic band which did nothing to compliment his dirty blonde hair. Come to think of it, Blaine could smell him now, too. Unbidden, a green eyed smirk sprung to his mind. He shook his head.

“—and I thought, this is Slayer bussin— _ow_ ” Blaine gripped Sam’s arm unintentionally hard, cutting him off. He glanced about.

“Sam. C’mon, you fill us in on the way. I’d prefer if my extra-curricular activities remained unknown to the entire cafeteria,” Blaine sighed.

“Oh, totally,” Sam agreed and the three of them went to find a more private spot to talk.

***

The more private spot turned out to be Coach Sylvester’s office. The three of them huddled around the table surrounded by shelves upon shelves of trophies.

“So, you’re saying that a girl spontaneously combusted, that is, burst into flames, mid-class?” That was something Blaine had not encountered or even heard of in his a little over a year of slaying, and he had seen some pretty cringe-worthy shit.

“Yeah, man. It was the track. The girl was pulling into a heavy lead and all of a sudden her feet caught on fire. She went all—Human Torch. . .but painful and with a lot of screaming,” Sam shuddered. “Would’ve been worse if not for Coach Sylvester.”

“Is she ok?” Blaine started pacing. “Do we know what caused it?” It didn’t seem like a vampire thing, but it did seem very not of the norm.

“It is kinda funky,” Tina said.

“Spontaneous human combustion is rather scientifically tricky to prove, given the fact that all that is usually left in such potential cases is a pile of ashes,” Sue Sylvester voiced dryly from her chair across the table.

“So we have no idea what caused this,” Blaine said. “How comforting.”

Sue gave a lethal smile. “Well, that’s the thrill of living on a Hellmouth, you never know what bad is going to head your way. . . Excuse me for seeing the glass half full, children,” she added in reply to their incredulous faces. “It’s a shame. I kinda had my eye on that one for tomorrow’s try-outs. Kitty Wilde.” Sue clicked her tongue in disappointment. “Better luck next year, I guess.”

Blaine, who had completely forgotten about the semi-annual try-outs, intensified his pacing.

“Any common denominator in cases of spontaneous combustion?” he asked.

“Rage,” Sue said, looking at him. “In most cases the person who combusted was terribly angry or upset. So you might wanna cut back on the pacing, Anderson.” Blaine froze. Tina snickered in her chair but quickly sobered up under Sue’s gaze.

“I need to get some insight on Kitty. Find out if she’s had some sort of colourful episode before.” Blaine went for the door.

“Oh! If that means hacking illegally into school’s computer, I can do that,” Tina piped up, rising from her chair.

“And I can ask around about her,” Sam joined her.

Blaine was touched, but also worried. Worry made him uneasy. “You guys don’t have to do that,” he said.

“What do you mean? We’re a team, dude,” Sam said, looking for Tina to Blaine. “Aren’t we?”

“Yeah,” Tina said. “You’re the Slayer, and we’re like—the Slayerettes.” Blaine had to admit the name had a ring to it. He frowned.

“I just don’t like putting you guys in danger.”

There had been enough of that lately. And the Master’s minions already attempted to hurt them both.

“While I hate to break up this little heart-to-heart,” Blaine’s Watcher drawled in a bored voice, which cut the air like the knife it was, behind them, “would you three mind moving this spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings somewhere which is not my office, or even better, which is a couple hundred feet removed from the vicinity of my office? I don’t want to accidentally catch it.” _And neither do you, Anderson_ , was heavily implied. “And if Evans wants to laugh in the face of danger only to hide until it goes away, I suggest you let him and go slay something.” She was looking only at Blaine now. “And if it so happens that Miss Wilde herself isn’t causing this herself, I suggest that you discover what is, ASAP. I know it’s not your most prominent feature, Anderson, but I also suggest you tread lightly until we know more. Oh, and I expect you early, tomorrow.”

They regarded her in stunned silence.

“Well?” she barked. “Scram.”


	2. La Question C'est Voulez-vous?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaine chats to his Mom and realises some things. The patrol goes unexpectedly.  
> The real question is-- will Blaine or won't Blaine? (Assuming he even knows what is it that he wants.)
> 
> Again, all the occasional original lines belong unequivocally to the TV show Buffy the Vampire Slayer and its creators.

Getting back home, Blaine couldn’t stop thinking about that unfortunate girl, Kitty. Blaine never met her, but if Sue admitted setting her eyes on that one, then she must have been something. Sue wouldn’t even tolerate, much less want just anyone on her team. And then there was the coincidence that Kitty had a freak accident just the day before Cheerio try-outs. . . It seemed kind of suspicious. Were the two somehow linked?

“Hey, Mom,” Blaine called as he entered.

“In here,” Pam called back from the kitchen, where Blaine discovered she was in the middle of unpacking huge wooden boxes which were nailed shut. “For the tribal arts display,” Pam answered Blaine’s unspoken question. “The gallery is having its first major exhibition in Lima.” She managed to sound both very tired and very excited. She tackled another box.

“Cool,” Blaine said, grabbing an apple from the counter and taking a bite. “The Cheerios are having semi-annual try-outs tomorrow,” he said when his mother failed to continue the conversation. “Though the competition may not be that fierce. . . There was an accident today, in PE.” Pam looked up from her box.

“Were you involved?”

“Mom!”

“Sorry—sorry, honey. I’m sure you’ll do great.” Pam sighed. “It’s just—I can’t keep up with your activities these days and I’m distracted. . . Got a lot of inventory to go through, here.” She gave up and went to find something else to pry the box open with. “You know, it might not physically kill you to give me a hand,” she threw over her shoulder, stopping by a pile of inventory papers to check things.

Blaine walked over to the box in question and flipped the lid open with his free hand with no effort. Pam was completely focused on the papers. Blaine took another bite of his apple.

“Glee’s having solo try-outs, as well.”

“Oh, good!” Pam folded up her notes. “I’m so glad you took that up again, it will keep you out of trouble.” Blaine felt his insides twist.

“I’m not _in_ trouble,” he gritted out.

“No, not yet,” Pam agreed, absent-mindedly. Trouble. Blaine Trouble Anderson. Deflating, Blaine stared at the floor. Pam seemed to sense that, because she finally looked at him. “I mean you stopped singing just _before_ the trouble. It’s good you’re doing it again,” Pam concluded. “Oh, dear!” she casually peered into the box in front of her, but closed it quickly.

“What?”

“Oh, it’s just—fertility statues,” she dismissed with a wave of her hand. “You don’t need to see it.”

So naturally, Blaine peeked inside when she wasn’t looking. He slightly choked on his last bite of apple. Oh dear, indeed.

***

That night’s patrol was a total bust. Tina had called earlier in the evening to inform him that Kitty’s record was very much clear. No suspicious supernatural occurrences of any kind. So, with nothing better to do, Blaine managed to patrol four out of Lima’s 23 graveyards and slay only two vampires who had been no challenge at all. He was currently waiting for vamp No. 3 to resurface from his grave, and was gradually bored to the point of wanting to head home and finish unpacking his Mom’s tribal art pieces from the boxes currently crowding their kitchen.

He decided against it, however, and did a couple of cartwheels and backflips in lieu of practice for tomorrow’s try-outs. He even considered practicing his cringeworthy French. Tina did text him to practice before their next session and Blaine was slowly realising that his chances of passing this trimester were on the slim side.

And then there was Glee. Where he was supposed to perform a solo of his own choice which he barely even considered. He groaned loudly, not caring, because there was no one to hear him and reprimand him there.

He ran and broke into a series of somersaults across the soft grass. Maybe he should pick a song in French. Slay two bads in one swing. Exceed all expectations. Prove that he wasn’t Blaine Trouble Anderson anymore. Or, at all.

People expected too much of him. _A sense of expectation hanging in the air_. . .

The song popped into his head and Blaine hummed. He didn’t suppose Abba would provide a satisfactory amount of vocabulary.

_And here we go again, we know the start, we know the end_

_Masters of the scene_

Blaine chuckled, finding his footing on a headstone and pushing into a backwards flip mid-lyric he was humming.

_We've done it all before and now we're back to get some more_

_You know what I mean_

He swung around the headstone and broke into full-fledged song belting out the chorus like nobody’s business.

“ _Voulez-vous, ah-ha, take it now or leave it, now is all we get, nothing promised, no regrets. . ._ ”

Sue once told him that Slayers, as the protectors of humanity, weren’t meant to sing and dance at people, when they should be pointing stakes at bads. For some reason, this thought made Blaine smile as he was spinning and bouncing between tombstones.

“ _Voulez-vous, ah-ha, ain’t no big decision, you know what to do, la question c’est voulez -vous,_ ” he sang with more conviction, completely in sync with his movements. “ _Voulez-vous!_ ”

Blaine went through the entire Cheerio routine while singing along. When he landed with a flourish, there was a slow clap coming behind his back. _About friggin time_ , he thought. He almost forgot about vamp No. 3.

“Finally!” he exclaimed and spun around, stake at the ready. However, all Blaine’s excitement swiftly drained away when his eyes landed on Sebastian Smythe. The bane of Blaine’s already messed-up adolescent existence. And he’d just seen what he’d just seen. Great. Blaine had _no choice_ but to stake him, now.

“I take it you were expecting someone else?” If he noticed Blaine’s embarrassment, he didn’t show it. “Sorry to disappoint, although you can always take me, instead.” He winked. This untied Blaine’s tongue.

“You mean, I can always _stake_ you, instead,” he quipped. Smythe hissed as if the words burned him, although Blaine could have sworn that the vampire gave him an opening on purpose. He didn’t know what to make of that. Yet.

“I didn’t know you could pull all that, Killer. Impressive,” the vampire sounded amused, but also surprisingly sincere, like he really was impressed. Blaine played it cool.

“Thanks.” Not like Sebastian Smythe’s compliments counted for anything. _Pfft_. He didn’t need a vampire’s approval.

“You do requests? Or possibly . . . _private_ shows?” Smythe asked, and Blaine lost it.

Oh well, he always did have a temper. And he’d had a long day.

Blaine’s fist connected with Sebastian Smythe’s face with a satisfying _smack_. Smythe, however, didn’t waste any time to punch back, and did so with a smile.

“I thought Slayers were supposed to kill the fun, not provide it?” Smythe asked casually between punches. Blaine let out a frustrated sound and hooked him on the shoulder, but he was too riled up to make it precise and it cost him his footing when the vampire used his other arm to flip Blaine to the ground. Ow. That hurt.

“Did I hit a nerve?” Smythe added smugly, but Blaine wasted no time and closed his hands around Smythe’s ankles, making him topple to the ground with a startled yell. Take that, smug fang-y bastard. 

Still, after a tangle of limbs and dodged punches, the stupid vampire somehow managed to wind up on top of Blaine. It was a tie, though—Smythe may have had his mouth at Blaine’s throat, but Blaine had his arms wrapped tightly around the vampire’s shoulders, the stake pressing firmly at the center of his back. One push and he’d be dust before he managed to sink his fangs into Blaine’s neck.

“Hmmm,” Sebastian Smythe purred against his skin, in a way which made goosebumps rise along Blaine’s entire side. “I could get used to this,” he mused softly.

Acutely aware of all the places the tall lean body on top of him was pressed down against his own, Blaine felt his face heat up, simultaneously cursing in his head the fact that Sebastian Smythe probably felt it, too. At least the blood was rushing to Blaine’s face, and not his . . . Fertility parts. . . ugh—and _why_ did he have to think about _that_ of all the things he could think about at that very moment! He stiffened his grip on the stake as he felt a surge of– something— he did not want to name or deal with right now-- jolt around in his stomach and pool dangerously lower. What was _wrong_ with him?

Was it the weird skin mojo that Sebastian did, navigating the stream of these ridiculous thoughts and uncontrollable silly responses that Blaine’s body seemed prone to? His right hand was against Blaine’s throat, but Blaine didn’t feel any mysterious tingles like last time. . . Only ordinary vampire tingles. Combined with hyper-awareness. Nothing clouded about it at all.

Things have been admittedly weird between them ever since that coffee meeting which Sebastian Smythe insisted on referring to and Blaine absolutely refused to refer to as ‘date’.

There was a beat.

“Killer?”

Blaine didn’t even notice Sebastian lifting his head to level their faces, and the wary, wide green-eyed stare took him by surprise. He opened his mouth to either say something or maybe to push Sebastian Smythe’s lips down to his, seeing as his stake-free hand found its way up the vampire’s neck and those green eyes instantly chased the movement of Blaine’s mouth—

“Um—sorry. Am I interrupting something?” a curious voice asked to their right and they both whipped their heads around to discover Blaine’s vamp No. 3, who finally decided to grace the night with his presence. The response was momentary.

“No,” Blaine replied and, pushing Sebastian Smythe, whose simultaneous and exasperated cry of “ _Yes_!” he barely registered, off him, he sprang into action.

In the end, it wasn’t a very long fight. The vamp was dusted in a couple of clean, swift moves. Blaine only jumped at the excuse to get up and away from the other vampire, who was currently watching him, still on the ground and casually propped on his elbows.

“What is it?”

“What is what?” Blaine played stupid.

“What’s eating you?” he pressed. Blaine scoffed.

“What makes you think something’s _eating_ me?” Blaine made a show of being disgusted at the choice of words.

“Please don’t make me go all girly-gay on this, and just spit it out,” the vampire rolled his eyes and Blaine glared, offended.

“You’re obnoxious.”

“Obnoxious people give the most straightforward advice. Which is the best advice,” he said with a tight-lipped smile. “So try me.”

There was a beat.

“Fine,” Blaine huffed. “Today at school a girl caught on fire— spontaneously combusted, out of the blue, all on her own. While it most definitely falls into the funky Slayer-stuff category, we don’t know who or what caused it, and we have no idea where to begin looking. It happened at the gym, where we have try-outs tomorrow— semi-annual try-outs which I completely forgot about and therefore have not prepared for— and I’m afraid it may happen again, because the girl who combusted—Kitty Wilde—was supposed to try out for the team, and now she can’t, which makes me wonder if she could have been purposefully eliminated. I may be the Slayer but I still have no idea how to stop it. And it’s obviously not something you can hit or stab with a pointy wooden stick.” Blaine started pacing wildly in the middle of his speech, his breath coming faster as he went on. “I have a solo audition for Glee next week, for which I have not even picked out a song, let alone started preparing, and my Watcher is hell-bent that I quit Glee altogether because it’s ‘a distraction’ and ‘Slayers are not entertainers’—somehing she obviously doesn’t question when I’m throwing girls into the air for the sake of a Cheerio performance,” he vented, not noticing how the vampire’s eyebrows progressively nearing his hairline. “Oh! And also, I’m probably failing French. Voila!” Blaine finished with a grandiose swipe of his free arm, letting it flop back against his hip.

Sebastian Smythe considered him for a moment.

“While you’ll have to let me get back to you on the spontaneous combustion and song-choice, I can, however, be of assistance with the French issue,” he said.

Blaine gaped at him, incredulous. That was _so_ the last thing he’d expected to hear. The vampire just smirked.

“ _Tout de suite_.”


End file.
